


Music And The World

by chaoticrandomness



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Historical References, Musical Instruments, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5152766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticrandomness/pseuds/chaoticrandomness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Estonia, Ukraine, dealing with independence, and pianos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music And The World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allekha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/gifts).



It begins with music. Or, in the very least, it starts growing more serious and open after the revolution occurs and the Union falls and puts all of us back on an even footing as nations again.

 

But, if I’m being less poetic, the beginning’s actually a knock on the door of my new house.

 

“Hello? You can come in.” I say, for it’s probably one of the movers.

“...thanks. Um, I’m sorry for barging in, but do you know how to tune a piano?” my visitor asks as he slips through the door and quietly closes it behind him.

 

_Where exactly did you get the piano from? I’d like one…_

 

“It’d probably be easiest to hire a piano tuner for that, and you don’t have to apologize.” I answer.

 

_A break from sorting out independence and paperwork would be nice, come to think of it. Thanks for visiting, by the way._

 

“Do you need any help with moving back in besides the piano? Would you like tea?” I ask, as we’ve someone walked into my dining room without realizing it, and it’s probably rude to keep a guest for so long without offering them food.

 

“...no, I’m fine. I’m… adjusting, but I suppose we all are. And I would like the tea.” he answers, before taking a seat and staring at a spot on the floor.

 

_Are you sure that everything’s alright? I can help you, if you want me to…_

 

“Anyways, where did you get the piano from?” I ask, as I place two cups of tea on the table.

 

“...I don’t remember, but if you want it, you can have it.” he answers.

 

_No, keep the piano then. I can play the music of Lysenko and Prokofiev elsewhere._

_We finish the tea in silence, and he quickly leaves my house, but I wouldn’t mind seeing him again._

* * *

_I suppose that I could visit him again? It’s been a week, and the next meeting is in three months._

 

It’s not that I don’t know him, for we’ve lived together for all those years in my brother’s house. I also have visited him unannounced before, and he’s been fine with that, although I don’t know if the additional stress from putting our lives back together is going to make him less likely to want visitors.

 

_Well, that doesn’t matter right now, for you’re sitting in his strangely-empty piano room with Prokofiev’s sheet music and attempting to muddle through it. Why did you even choose one of his hardest pieces?_

 

“...was I expecting you? I’m sorry if I kept you here for so long…” he says as he walks in on my attempts at playing Toccata In D Minor.

 

“If you want me to knock, that’s fine. How are your brothers?” I politely ask.

 

_How is your brother?_

 

_He is still in mourning. But I don’t know if he has any reason to ask me about Russia, so…_

 

“...do you think that I should leave Estonia for a bit?” he asks in return.

 

“Why would you want to leave your homeland?” I ask.

 

_Why would you ever want to leave, after spending so many years away from it?_

 

“I just want to get away from… nevermind, you probably don’t want to hear about my psychological issues, but I did find out where to buy a piano. Do you want me to take you there?” he answers, and I would like the piano, but that’s not important…

 

_“Why do you act like you’re not supposed to interact with me?”_

 

_It’s a bit like what happened back then, and if he acts like nothing’s wrong, I won’t be able to help him heal from the mess that we came out of…_

 

* * *

The piano shop is closed when we get there, its door surrounded by flags.

 

“....oh, I thought it was open. Sorry for dragging you here.” he says, but I don’t mind just wandering around wherever we are, for it’s a nice break from all of the paperwork and trauma.

 

_You can’t live your life in grief forever, you know that? Everything’s going to be better… if only I could just tell them that without sounding insensitive._

 

“No, it’s fine.” I say, but I’m still lost in my thoughts.

 

_I suppose that it’s normal to reflect on sudden upheaval, yet I’m probably boring him and if I’m going to help people, I can’t be stuck in a perpetual prison of reflections…_

 

“If you want to leave, that’s fine. I don’t want to be keeping you here against your will.” he says, thankfully pulling me back to reality. Impulsively, I grab his hand, as if to keep me permanently from falling into my mind…

 

Well, we can at least attempt to salvage this meeting, and admittedly, the whole thing hasn’t been awful…

 

“...I didn’t mean to do anything against… where exactly am I? What were we talking about?” he asks as he turns towards me and releases my hand like it’s a live wire.

 

_What?! Are you alright? I didn’t mean to bring up something traumatic, but this is clearly going horribly…_

 

“We’re buying pianos and you were showing me around your homeland.” I answer, before I notice that he’s gone.

 

_I’m sorry if I did something wrong, I just wanted to… keep myself from falling into my own mind. I hope that you don’t hate me for this…_

 

* * *

There’s a note taped to my door when I get back home.

 

_The piano will be arriving at the end of this week. I hope you like it._

 

There is exactly one person who I’ve mentioned pianos to that I can remember, and I don’t know if this is his attempt to make up for our meeting that ended with a closed piano shop and me doing something idiotic.

 

_You really shouldn’t have gotten one for me; I’m not very good and I probably accidentally hurt you…._

 

_You have a phone. Why don’t you just call him and apologize, for you don’t have to hide anything?_

 

Then again, he could just not want to talk to me or I’m overanalyzing things or both, but the most direct route to conflict resolution is also the absolute easiest one, so I walk into my kitchen and call him.

 

“...hello? Was there something-” he begins, before I cut him off.

 

“Did I hurt you at any time when we were heading away from the piano shop?” I ask.

 

_As for the one you ordered for me, thank you for doing that, but you really shouldn’t have…._

 

“Oh, that? No, that’s just me being an idiot, and I’m sorry that you had to see that.” he answers, before he hangs up the phone and leaves me alone with a quiet house and a pile of unfinished paperwork.

 

_I think you’re selling yourself a little short here. Also, I… why am I being so worried about you, anyways?_

 

_To be fair, when you’ve lived with someone for about half a century, you begin to get used to seeing them and interacting with them on a semi-regular basis and worrying about their health._

 

_It’s not like this is a new development between the two of you._

 

* * *

It’s a week before I see him again, a week of worries and more paperwork and distraction and contemplations about getting restraining orders….

 

_I don’t exactly have a reason to take out a restraining order again my siblings, I guess I just want to be independent for a bit…. everyone is recovering well from the end of the Union and the Eastern Bloc, right?_

 

The answer to that question could be anything from yes to no to twenty million, and I don’t exactly have a right to intrude in on people enjoying their independence, but I can’t turn off the string of worries for us all.

 

_Are you healthy? Are you taking care of yourself and not overworking or trapping yourself in a self-imposed mental prison of memory, trauma, and nostalgia? Do you want me to-_

 

“Mrs… Braginskaya? We’re here with your piano, and your friend accidentally sent us to the wrong country for some reason.” a rather confused mover says as he opens my door and pulls me out of my thoughts.

 

_Are you sure that you weren’t reading the signature when you showed up in Estonia?_

 

“I’ve only recently moved here, so could you please put the piano in the room with the most space in it?” I ask as I open the door for the piano and the rest of the movers, and I probably should be more focused on unpacking everything.

 

_Just… relax for a little bit, I guess. Take another stab at performing Lysenko and Prokofiev, and maybe throw in something nationalistic as well. And hope that he shows up again and… we’ve been apart for longer than a week before, so why do I suddenly want to see him now?_

 

The piano is white and sitting in the middle of a room that I forgot about. Someone’s put a vase on top of it, which is filled with sunflowers and Ukrainian flags.

 

“....do you like it? I hope you don’t mind the delay, the delivery-people read the wrong line on the order forms and I didn’t want to come off as imposing…”

 

* * *

_When did you get here? Did you put the vase up there as well?_

 

“I can’t play the piano.” I say as I pull myself out of my questions on how he showed up in my house completely unannounced, for he is rather good at blending into the background of things and acting like he doesn’t exist… and I have no idea why I’m extolling such a negative trait, but it’s probably out of shock.

 

“...why do you have all of this sheet music if you were never intending to use the piano?” he asks, as he takes a seat at the bench and I sit next to him.

 

“I don’t know, actually. You could try to play it, for you’re clearly much better than I am at this.” I answer.

 

_For one, anyone who’s able to pull off a revolution armed with just music clearly deserves accolades for their prowess. It was awe-inspiring, but I don’t think I’ve ever told you that._

 

“Or, you could just take a risk and play this piece by Mykola Lysenko.” he quips, as he sets a piece of sheet music on the music stand and waits for me to play.

 

“I don’t want to do the music an injustice.” I answer, and I’m just being irrationally nervous, for there’s someone actually watching me attempt to muddle through something so beautiful…

 

_Wait, he’s heard me play this before when I visited him and found his piano, so there’s no reason for him to see me any differently because of this._

 

“How could someone so kind perform any type of injustice? If you want, we could play it together.” he asks.

 

_...thank you, but I’m… oh, stop thinking about the past and just talk to him, you idiot._

 

“Okay, let’s go.” I answer, and we begin to play. For all I know, this is absolute worst rendition of any of Lysenko’s music, but it’s also the most fun thing I’ve done in weeks.

 

* * *

“Thank you for visiting.” I say once the song finishes.

 

_You can stay longer, if you wish. In fact, just stay here all day, like we did that one day in your room back then…_

 

“...do you want me to leave?” he asks.

 

“No, stay here. Please. I honestly wouldn’t mind some company.” I answer.

 

_You seemed happier when you were talking with me. I want everyone to be happy, especially the people I care about._

 

“Okay, I’ll stay here. Do you want to play something else?” he asks.

 

_I’m in a mood to be making tea or cooking something, but we can just put that aside and keep going, if it makes you happy._

_Would you like to play something else?_

“Yes, I would love to keep playing.” I answer, as I turn the page and we continue with the music.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Fandom Growth Exchange! I hope you like this work, and I'm sorry if this is bad...


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